


You Can Run But You Can't Hide

by blueberrytea



Category: The Maze Runner (2014), The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: First Kiss, M/M, bad home-made alcohol, based on a bunch of what-ifs, ehuehuehue oblivious thomas, help me, sorta just awkwardly leaving teresa out of this, this started as a one-shot, this will probably evolve a lot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-17
Updated: 2015-03-23
Packaged: 2018-03-13 10:07:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3377537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blueberrytea/pseuds/blueberrytea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thomas knows everyone thinks he's different. And Thomas knows he is. But he can't be the only one, can he?</p><p>FIC ON HIATUS</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. In Which There is Something Uncontrollable

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, world! *bursts out from under rock* This is the first fic I've posted online...I'm scared. Anyway, this started off as a one-shot and then realized I could do something with the end of the first chapter, and I'll try to continue this if I have time, but high school isn't exactly the place where one can expect an entirely predictable schedule. Also, this is pretty much completely spontaneous, apologizing in advance for the weird plot things that might come up. Soooo...yeah. Read on, I hope you like it! ^^

 

It was night, and Thomas’s hammock creaked as he swung back and forth, the movement keeping something slow and heavy inside him from moving--something that would quickly turn fiery if it wasn’t rocked into submission. A trickle of sweat meandered down his temple, and Thomas rubbed the side of his face absentmindedly, not pausing in his attempts to compress everything that had happened in the day into something his brain could process. It was all so surreal. Like something that happens in a dream, a cloudy, faint voice told him. Something that shouldn't happen in real life.

Thomas glared at the ground.

“Can't sleep, Greenie?” A familiar voice, soft as it spoke, sounded from the darkness.

“No,” Thomas replied, twisting around to meet Newt's gaze. “And I don't need a babysitter.” Newt smirked.

“‘S my job.” He leaned leisurely against a post, another jar of that disgusting, throat-burning liquid in hand. “At least for the first couple of days.” He unscrewed the lid and took a sip.

“Why do you drink that stuff?” Thomas asked when Newt grimaced a bit at the taste. The boy looked at Thomas sarcastically.

“It's alcohol. Why do you think?" Thomas swallowed self-consciously. "You get used to the burn after a while.” He glanced at Thomas, a slight smile on his mouth that somehow made Thomas forget to breathe for a few seconds.

“Do you, uh...could I...?” He gestured at the jar, warmness spreading across his face.

Newt's small smile turned to a grin, and he held out the jar, nodding as if to say, ‘go ahead.’ Thomas accepted it, took a swig, and nearly choked again.

“Oh, my--” He coughed, trying to rid his mouth of the flavor. “Nope! Bad idea!” Thomas's tongue seemed to crave air, so he stuck it way out of his mouth (he was sure he looked ridiculous) while trying hard not to glance at Newt, who was laughing again. “Wow, I think Gally's trying to kill us.” Thomas mused, and snuck a look at the other boy, finding him smiling fondly at the ground.

“Well,” Newt said (sounding quite tipsy), and retrieved the near-empty jar. “At least we’ll die together.” He quirked his eyebrows and raised the jar before downing the rest of the liquid. Thomas watched him in wonder. Newt licked his lips. Thomas shivered.

“Look, Greenie,” Newt said quietly after a silence. "You're not like the rest of the boys.You’re...you’re different. And that's good. Could lead to some much needed improvements. But if you wanna make those changes, you gotta learn that people around here, people like Gally, don't like stepping out of their comfort zones. You gotta make them trust you. That's the only way you're gonna bloody get anywhere."

“So...you're saying I should hide my differences? Who I am?” Thomas knew that Newt was trying to help, but decided, out of habit, to be stubborn.

“For now? Hide what'll make Gally and all those other shanks want to toss you to the buggin' grievers.”

“How long is ‘for now?’” Thomas leaned back in the hammock.

“Come on, stop it. I’m not trying to...” Newt exhaled in frustration, and Thomas couldn’t tell if it was toward himself or Thomas's admittedly annoying insistence. “What I'm getting at here is, I don't want you to die." (Maybe more than tipsy.) "So, for shuck’s sake, be careful.” At this he looked exasperatedly at Thomas, who held his gaze, heart pounding.

Then, something strange happened.

Suddenly everything seemed deadly quiet, like someone had lowered the volume of the world. A sharp feeling was making every fiber of his being quiver, a feeling that his brain didn't even have cataloged. And he knew what it was almost instantly. Want.

Because, the truth was, he _wanted_ Newt. He wanted Newt so intensely he wasn’t sure how it had manifested so soon. But it was there, surely, and Thomas felt it when he noticed how Newt’s eyes scrunched up when he smiled, or the thin, shaped line of his upper lip, or this thing that Newt did where he seemed to go out of his way to help Thomas fit in.

 _Well,_  Thomas supposed, _it is his job. He says so._  Doubt crept over his skin, but he pushed it away. There was nothing to lose in this new place. Everything was already gone.

He stood, sensing the confused look on Newt's face. His own was burning with the awkwardness of his movements, and he didn't dare make eye contact. No, not until he was standing over Newt, the other boy leaning away from the post. He cast a shadow over Newt's face, but through the dark he could see Newt's brow furrowing. He stood there for a minute, letting Newt's silent questions go right over his head, working up the courage to lean closer. And closer. And  _closer._ Thomas closed his eyes, and then...

He kissed him. He kissed Newt slowly, like they were underwater, the slight taste of sweat and the heavier one of bad alcohol mingled on Thomas’s lips when the contact broke, and he felt drawn back to the other boy's mouth, despite the taste. Newt's breath puffed against Thomas's lower lip, eyes lowered and fingers brushing against Thomas's chin. Thomas could see the realization set in.

Newt’s look turned from soft to confused, and he started to say something that sounded like, “What--?” But Thomas couldn't hear what came after that.

By then he was already running.


	2. In Which Thomas Misses Newt's Hands

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I would like to apologize for:  
> 1) the lateness of this chapter (SORRYSORRYSORRY)  
> 2) Facts that might make you go "whaaat?"  
> 3) If Chuck is OOC. Or, y'know, anyone else.  
> Otherwise, enjoy! This chapter was fun to write, especially the end. I apparently like making Thomas worry. Muahaha.

Thomas was still awake in the forest when the sun came up. He was sure he was covered in grime from head to toe, but no longer had the energy to care--well, it was exactly that. He wanted Newt to _see_ how he didn’t care, how he had sat up all night, how it was all his--

No. No, it wasn’t really. It was Thomas’s fault for kissing him without warning. They had known each other for a couple of days, after all, and Newt hadn’t shown any signs that he liked boys, much less signs towards Thomas.

Hadn't he?

Thomas smiled in spite of himself. There were the looks. Those endless, almost tangible looks that left Newt’s coffee eyes dancing in Thomas’s head and rendering him unable to focus on anything else. And Newt had kissed him back. (Surely?) And he'd done that thing with his hand. Thomas can almost feel his fingers now, on his chin, no, not on his chin, on his chest and his back, fingernails scraping into the flesh--

A wave of chills rolled through Thomas at the thought.

No, he had kissed him back. But it wasn’t like Newt had been staring into _his_ eyes too. It wasn't like Newt felt a shock ring in his chest every time they looked at each other.

Did he?

Thomas shook himself. He'd been at this all night, trying to think of ways to confront Newt, getting angry, and then letting fantasy tiptoe its way into his thought process. Thomas wished he could punch himself squarely in the face, maybe try to explain that this whatever-it-was with Newt was something that would blow over, the kind of middle school that rages through the veins for a week or so and then dies out completely. He did seem immature enough to be in middle school (yet another thing he automatically seemed to know about).

Though, truthfully, Thomas knew he wouldn’t be able to convince himself, even if there was punching involved. There was--dare he think it--something _deep_ , this ever-lurking thing that was, at the same time, a raw hole and a raging entity. It was the thing that made him do crazy things, that made him swoop in to passionately kiss Newt in the dark while everyone was sleeping. The problem was, Thomas couldn’t decide if he wanted to destroy the thing or make it infect Newt as well.

No, screw that. He just wanted Newt's hands on him again.

The rumble and screech of the walls opening sounded just outside the forest, and Thomas wished for a minute that he had enough strength to run to the maze and fling himself to the grievers and whatever the hell else was out there. With his luck, that would be better than facing Newt after what had happened. How had he made such a fool of himself? He’d been trying to stifle his impulsive tendencies and so far he’d succeeded. Why’d he have to screw up so bad?

Thomas saw Minho and Alby and the rest of the runners jog into the maze through the leafy wall that concealed him.

That’s _what you’re here for_ , he thought. _You’re here to get everyone out of this place, not go insane over some damn angel that happens not to like boys._ Thomas shook himself again, trying to snap out of the mental fog he had buried himself in, and noticed that his stomach was rumbling fiercely. He hadn’t eaten anything since breakfast yesterday, save the few pieces of meat Newt had offered him the night before. Thomas wondered if Newt would do the same tonight, and then stifled a scream at how idiotic he was being. He got up, walked pointedly out of the forest, and steered himself towards Frypan’s tent, not even looking at the gardens that usually held his gaze for a good portion of the day.

 _You’re stupid,_ Thomas thought to himself as he devoured an omelette, facing away from the Glade. He repeated this like a mantra as he cleared his plate, stood around for a few seconds, then remembered--

Oh, no.

He had already worked with the Slicers, and the Builders, so that meant...That meant today was the day he would work with the Track-hoes. _In the gardens_. Thomas groaned out loud. How could today, of all days, be the one when he was forced to work in such close quarters with Newt? Yesterday would have been fine. He would’ve loved it yesterday. Thomas mentally flipped off the universe, which seemed to have it out for him, heaved a big sigh, and-- _you’re stupid you’re stupid you’re stupid_ \--tromped down to the plant-ridden clearing.

 

~~

 

Newt, as it turned out, had the same idea as Thomas. While Thomas braced himself, prepared to deny and apologize as much as possible, he hadn’t noticed the lack of a sound in the air, a voice, one that could be picked up by Thomas from far away. Newt wasn’t even there. While Thomas had been used to dreamily watching the blond work with a hoe in the soft earth, the same hoe was leaned up against the bean supports. While Newt usually struck up a conversation with Zart or one of the other Track-hoes, the garden was uncharacteristically quiet.

Zart was friendly and worked quickly, and Thomas tried hard to keep up, mostly just nodding as Zart walked him through different processes for transplanting, pruning, harvesting, and other things that escaped Thomas’s memory. But, the truth was, he was distracted--put out, even, by the fact that he didn’t have a chance to show Newt how much he didn’t care. There wasn’t a day so far Thomas hadn’t seen him in the gardens, even if he was sitting lazily against a dirt pile, whistling some made-up tune. And Thomas was utterly confused.

Newt probably had a reason for his absence today. Probably some business matter or something, Thomas told himself. Surely it couldn’t have anything to do with--

“Thomas?”

“Huh?” Thomas looked up at Zart, squinting as the sun glared into his eyes.

“Good, just makin’ sure you’re still alive in there. Pay attention, Greenie.”

“Sorry.” Thomas mumbled, and took the shovel that was handed to him.

The workday sped by, Thomas all the while trying to fight thoughts of Newt and the night before that constantly bubbled up from his subconscious. He was sitting in his hammock again when Chuck approached him.

“Hey, Thomas.”

“Hey, Chuck.” Thomas really wasn’t in the mood for Chuck’s antics, but he was too tired to protest.

“It’s gettin’ late.”

“Yup.”

“Sun’s startin’ to go down.”

“Yup," Thomas repeated, and Chuck didn’t say any more. Thomas listened to his breathing.

“Runners aren’t back yet.”

“Hm?”

“The runners. They’re usually back by now.”

“The walls don’t close for a while, do they?” Thomas looked to Chuck, who turned to him and heaved a big sigh.

“Thomas, you’re not gettin’ it. The runners are never off schedule. Not unless...”

“Unless something goes wrong?”

Chuck looked at his hands. “Yep.” Thomas huffed out a nervous half-laugh.

“Nothing’s wrong. What could’ve gone wrong?”

“I don’t wanna think about it.”

“Minho’s the fastest one out there, and he’s with them. Nothing’s wrong.” Thomas laid back in the hammock. “I mean, it’s like a ship. Ships don’t sink. They just don’t. You can't be afraid of a ship sinking when you're on it because it never happens.”

“This ain't no ship. And I just...have a bad feeling,” Chuck mumbled remorsefully, and they both went silent. When Thomas could no longer take the looming apprehension in the air, he stood and walked slowly down to the wide field. The sun was almost behind the maze walls, and a sour feeling clenched Thomas’s chest. He was so on edge he might’ve even toughed his way through asking Newt about the missing Runners, if he knew where Newt had gone.

But that thought just added a new flutter to his stomach.

Thomas turned away from the maze entrance and started walking again towards Frypan’s tent. However, almost immediately after he turned his back, shouts struck the air behind him. Thomas whirled around again to find the boys starting to crowd around the entrance, and jogged over to see what the commotion was about.

When he elbowed his way to the front and looked out into the maze, his blood ran cold. There, about forty feet from the crowd, was Minho. Thomas squinted to make out what the hulking form hanging off of him was, but a voice from the crowd confirmed his fear.

“It’s Minho and Alby!” One of the boys shouted, and noise erupted from the group.

Thomas almost had a heart attack when he saw Newt forcing his way through the mass of bodies and coming up right next to him at the front. He called something to Minho, but Thomas couldn’t hear--his mind was only playing the same message over and over again:

_They can’t make it._

They were so close, but the walls were starting to grind slowly shut.

_They’re not going to make it._

Minho tried to run, but Alby was clearly weighing him down. Everyone was shouting encouragement at them, but Thomas only felt dread.

_I can make it._

All at once everything was slowed, and the muscles in Thomas’s body were moving. Someone grabbed onto him from behind, but Thomas only dragged the extra weight with him through the narrow space--

 _BOOM!_ The massive sound thundered through Thomas’s ears, and he found himself on the ground.

“Newt, what the _HELL_?!” Thomas heard Minho scream, but his head hurt, and it wasn’t until he shoved the person off of him that he realized who it was.

Newt’s near-black eyes bored into him, rage and fear playing on his face.

“You shank...” he growled through gritted teeth. “I’m going to shucking kill you.”


	3. In Which Everyone is Angry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FLUFFFFF.  
> Sorry, I'm bad at it. I wasn't really satisfied with this chapter, I just couldn't get some parts to sound the way I wanted. Sorry again if that comes out in my writing. (づ￣ ³￣)づ (please don't hate me)
> 
> UPDATE: Sorta took out the fluffy bits. Still editing.

Everything was silent as the weight of what Thomas had just done sunk in. His breath came in ragged gasps, and for a while that was the loudest sound between the four boys. Or, three and a half.

Alby still hung weightily off of Minho, clutching his middle, where blood and another disgusting substance dribbled out from under his hand.

“What happened?” Thomas asked quietly, motioning towards his crumpled form.

“He wanted a piggyback ride,” Minho snapped. “What the shuck does it look like? He got stung!”

“I--I’m sorry, I just--”

“You’re sorry? Listen up, shuck face, if you hadn’t decided to play hero and drag our only other leader into breaking the first shucking rule in the book, the Gladers would at least still have some shank who knew what the hell he was doing! Sorry doesn’t even begin to cover it, Greenie--we’re all dead now, because of y--”

Newt was on Minho, shoving him back and shouting in his face. “Minho, I’ve had my bloody fill with you! Don’t even talk about whose fault it was, I already feel bloody bad enough about what just happened--and all of because I didn’t know this shucking Greenbean was stupid enough to go through with his little plan of escape!” At this, Newt grabbed a handful of Minho’s shirt, causing him to nearly drop Alby. “If you want someone to blame, blame your own damn self for letting something like this happen to Alby!” Newt continued, tightening his grip. “None of this would’ve happened if for ONCE--”

“Newt, stop--” Thomas tried to hook onto Newt’s arm, but Newt wrenched it away.

“For once, you just DID WHAT YOU WERE TOLD!”

Minho nearly spat in Newt’s face. “Oh, you want me to do what I’m told? Huh? I don’t think anyone told you to climb that wall and--”

“Don’t you dare mention that in front of him--”

“I SAID STOP IT!” Thomas screamed, and the two boys froze. He swallowed nervously, looking between the two fuming stares now directed at him, then continued. “Fighting isn't going to keep us alive.”

“Oh, you two killed yourselves when you ran through those walls,” Minho replied, earning another shove from Newt.

“Only cowards give up,” Thomas said, staring Minho straight on. Minho laughed.

“Call it whatever you want, Greenie. This sure as hell ain't going to get any better." Minho pushed Newt off of him, went over to support Alby, and started walking into the maze. “I need to be alone.”

“Hey--where are you taking him?” Newt yelled after Minho, starting to go after him, but Thomas took hold of both his shoulders. Minho flipped them off as he turned the left corner.

There was silence again as Thomas and Newt stood at the large, stone doors.

“Why'd you do that?” Newt asked after a while.

“What was I supposed to do? Just stand there and watch you two fight while you casually spouted insults about me like an oil well?”

“That's not what I meant, Tommy! The walls. Why'd you run?’”

Thomas searched for an excuse, but found none. “I...I dunno.” he admitted finally, and the voice that came out of him wasn't like any he had heard before. He cleared his throat. “Why'd you follow me?”

Newt looked like he’d already had a response to the question, but the look faltered, and he only gave a sigh and a murmured, “I dunno.” Then he looked at Thomas, and everything Thomas has previously thought that day was gone.

“Why are you smiling?” Newt asked icily, and Thomas's hand went clumsily to his mouth.

“I...” Thomas could feel himself smiling even wider now, and lowered his hand. With a familiar flutter in his chest, he said, “I dunno.”

And then it happened again.

One minute Thomas was looking at Newt, waiting for some sign, anything to show that Newt wouldn't kill him right then and there, and the next, well...

The next was all warmth and Newt's (glorious) hands grasping his shirt, and the smell of him and the soft slickness of his lips against Thomas's own. Thomas felt something near his heart that was so strong it almost hurt, but not quite. He decided that it was a good hurt, a happy ache, and even so he didn't have time to deal with it because Newt was kissing him, so he leaned in further and carded his fingers through Newt's thick hair.

It was over too soon, and when Newt drew away, Thomas immediately had the urge to go forward and meet his lips again. But he wasn't about to make the same mistake twice. Instead, he said,

“I guess you do like boys, then?" To which Newt responded with a confused look, then something a bit harder.

“I guess I bloody well do, Greenie." He looked away.

"It's Thomas."

"Thomas." Newt wrinkled his nose. "Thomas. Tomm--” Newt stopped, his expression stone cold. “Did you hear that?”

“What?” Newt shushed him, and in the quiet a low groan sounded from somewhere much too close to where the two boys stood. Newt sighed infrustration. "Come on, we can't just stand around here snogging. We need to go.” Newt nodded to the right, and Thomas followed him into the maze.

“I thought you said there was no hope for us,” Thomas whispered.

“That was Minho,” Newt replied bitterly, and motioned for him to be quiet.

When they reached a fork, something groaned again.

“Did that come from left or right?” Thomas asked.

“Couldn’t tell. Let’s just...let’s just have a look around the corner now, alright?” Newt crept over to the left path, sounding more like he was trying to convince himself than anything. Thomas fought the urge to take his hand.

“Okay, one...two...three!” At three, they peeked around the corner. Newt exhaled in relief at the sight of an empty passageway.

Thomas bit his lip and whispered, “I’m not entirely sure, but I think there’s something behind us.” Newt whipped his head around, and fear shone plain on his features.

Because at the end of the other passageway was a blubbery, mechanical mass with a pointed sting plainly exposed.

Thomas grabbed onto Newt and tugged, starting off down the left passage, but the older boy fell with a pained grunt.

“Bloody leg," Newt fumed. "I'm sorry, it’s...not how it used to be." Newt looked at his leg resentfully. "You have to go. Find Minho and Alby.” Thomas’s face set in a grim determination. “Hey--Tommy, what are you--hey!” With Newt firmly over his shoulder, Thomas raced on, ignoring the screeching call of the griever that had noticed his movement.

"I like it," Thomas huffed, running at full speed.

" _What?_ "

"You called me Tommy." That shut Newt right up.

Thomas took every left that he saw, intent on outsmarting the beast, but it seemed that every corner only brought it closer to them. After several turns, much to his relief, Thomas noticed a small space in the wall, near the ground, just big enough to fit him and Newt and conceal them with vines. He set a protesting Newt down and shushed him, motioning towards the rectangular space. Newt nodded and they shuffled on their stomachs into the small space.

“Ow,” Newt spat when Thomas's elbow jabbed into him. Thomas murmured a 'sorry' and tried to stay still. He could hear and smell the oncoming griever, he could feel Newt’s trembling hand on his back. His throat was dry no matter how much he swallowed; and as the moments grew so did the charge of fear in the air.

 _Clank_. The griever stopped in front of the their hiding place, Thomas hoping with all his might that the griever’s sense of smell wasn’t keen enough to seek them out.

Ten seconds passed. Twenty. Then, with a lumbering hesitation, the beast moved on.

Newt let out a strangled breath onto Thomas’s neck. They slid out of the space, checked left and right, and stood, brushing off the dust from the ground.

Neither of them said anything for a long time.


	4. Author's Note

Holy shiitake, I am busy. I'm trying to continue this fic but the production I'm in is really getting serious now and I won't be very reliable for chapters (at least not until it's over, which is in about a month)...  
I'm so sorry for the wait, and I love you guys but you might have to wait some more :(  
Please don't kill me!  
Peace and fluff <3  
-blueberrytea


End file.
